Lock and Key
by yellowNight
Summary: Cuddy let the words hang in the air for a moment. She knew she could easily retract or correct her statement. She watched as a confused expression formed on Wilson’s face. She reasoned with herself—it was now or never. H/W, slightly fluffy.


**Fic: Lock and Key**

**Disclaimer: nothing is mine**

**a/n: hey there! I usually don't ship House/Wilson, but I couldn't get this little story out of my head. It takes place sometime during season 5 and deals with the events post Wilson's Heart. Enjoy and please review!**

Cuddy popped her head into Wilson's office, "Ready for lunch?"

He sighed, "I hate to have to cancel like this, but I have to run and buy a pair of shoes."

Cuddy made herself comfortable in the seat across from Wilson's desk. She watched as he piled some paperwork into neat stacks.

Wilson continued, "On the way in I stepped in the fresh pavement by the parking garage entrance."

"The construction workers must have loved you," Cuddy quipped.

"Yeah, they were just beaming. I need to replace these before the presentation," he came out from behind his desk to reveal his cement coated loafers. Wilson was referring to a presentation Cuddy had thrust upon him. In light of the negative press, Cuddy had been dispatching her doctors to various teaching hospitals and medical schools to do an unusually high amount of guest lectures on this and that; it was her version of damage control.

"Just run home and get another pair," she offered.

"My only other brown shoes are at House's. Do you know when he gets back from the NYU lecture?"

"Not until later tonight, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you let yourself in."

Wilson became slightly embarrassed, "You're the only one with a spare key."

"You don't need it. He leaves his door unlocked." Cuddy let the words hang in the air for a moment. She knew she could easily retract or correct her statement. She watched as a confused expression formed on Wilson's face. She reasoned with herself—it was now or never. _Tell Wilson and allow him to draw his own conclusions._

"Why would his door be unlocked?" Wilson finally prompted.

Cuddy chose her words carefully, "He stopped locking his door a couple of months ago."

Wilson gave her another confused look.

"After the accident, he wasn't in the greatest shape," Cuddy paused and bit her lip. She had never actually discussed House's recovery after the bus accident with Wilson. She saw Wilson's expression darken. She had wanted to tell Wilson then. She wanted to run to Wilson immediately after the incident and tell him what bad shape House was in. Part of her wanted him to feel sympathy, and recognize that House nearly died in his efforts to save Amber. But she let the initial weeks of his recovery pass without saying anything to Wilson, and before she knew it things were back to normal and there was no longer any need to say anything. The entire situation made her feel uneasy. Her emotions seemed to contradict her usual strong moral compass; her desire to make her friend feel guilt on top of the grief he was experiencing from his girlfriend's death, her secret pleasure over the time she got to spend alone with House while she nursed him back to health.

"I checked up on him once or twice a day before he was able to come back to work. Every time I knocked, he had to come let me in. I asked him to leave it unlocked until I got the spare key from you, but he said no, that it wouldn't be safe," Cuddy rolled her eyes and continued, "but after you gave me the spare, he started leaving the door unlocked."

"Why would he do that?" Wilson asked, not following House's logic.

Cuddy smiled, "I don't know. Maybe he was just teasing me."

She waited, hoping to see a look of recognition on her friend's face. He just shrugged, though, and she let it go.

"Alright then, I guess I'll head over to his place," Wilson said, pulling on his coat.

As they walked out of the office, Cuddy felt slight wave of relief. The competition she had felt between her and Wilson was nothing, just the product of an overactive imagination.

--

That night, Wilson found himself in front of House's door.

She had done the best she could without explicitly saying _He was leaving the door open for you._

Wilson had stopped by House's apartment that afternoon, and as he pushed through the unlocked door, the realization nearly caused him to lose his breathe. He grabbed his shoes and left as quickly as he could. He wasn't even sure if he bothered to close the door behind him.

Wilson gave an abbreviated version of his original presentation. He kept losing his place and making mistakes, and as he made his way back to his seat, he realized that he wouldn't be able to focus until he got to talk things out with House.

He knew exactly what he wanted to say. _I am sorry I was gone for that time, you need to know that I won't leave you again, and that I will always be here— as your friend. _

Wilson played his little speech over and over in his head, but as he pulled up to House's darkened apartment, he allowed his instinct to take control. His thoughts went blank.

He slowly opened the door. The lights were off, but House's overnight bag was still by couch and his mail was splayed out across the coffee table.

Wilson turned and locked the door behind him. He made his way to House's bedroom. He watched his friend sleep for a moment, and then slipped his shoes off.

He slid underneath the covers and put his hand House's arm. House startled in his sleep. "Don't worry," Wilson whispered, "I'm here now."


End file.
